Keep Moving Forward - A Note to Myself

This is a processing post, so it will probably be ever so long.  Apologies in advance.

I'm afraid of failure. In public or in private.  What if I try something new and I fail at it?  What if everyone can see that?  And how will that make me feel?

That's been my life for twenty-four years.

But this year has been full of opportunities and lessons about failing -- failing forward, keep moving forward, practice, and allowing myself to not be perfect the first time around.

It has done wonders for my creativity, let me tell you.

I rarely sewed growing up because my mother was so amazing and I knew I wouldn't be very good at it (plus I would take on huge projects and they wouldn't turn out very well).  She used to sew and sell Christening gowns (embroidery, antique lace, heirloom fabric, the whole fifteen yards.  My mom's all or nothing) and they were beautiful, airy little creations that shamed my tortured, home-made skirt patterns.

What I didn't know was that while I wouldn't be good at it right away, I could GET BETTER.

I've lived my entire life as someone who didn't know that anything could GET BETTER with practice.

I plateaued out in several areas of life -- music, writing, knitting, crocheting, cooking, folding laundry, etc.  Because I didn't know that you could do better.

Thank goodness for movies like Meet the Robinsons and books like Blink and Caution.  Thank goodness for the show Supernatural and books from Jeff Goins and Tim Gunn.  Thank goodness for inspiring people like Rachel Aaron, Sharon Creech, and Gail Carson Levine.  And thank goodness for Pinterest -- I think I've found a tutorial for everything I've ever wanted to do.

Without these, I could have gone my whole life plateauing in everything while wondering what I was missing.

I started getting better at crochet first.  I got some books from the library and learned some new stitches.  I began shaping things myself (I made a vase yesterday, and while not perfect, I'm pretty impressed with myself for figuring it out as I went), and FOLLOWING PATTERNS (a big area where I plateau).

Then I started reading a bunch of books on writing and this year's NaNo novel is already heaps better than any of the previous ones.

My baking got better -- I started trying new recipes and am learning how to use yeast properly (and to not mix up baking soda/baking powder).

I am getting better at sewing -- just altered a shirt (made shorter sleeves) and a skirt (fitted and added some ruffles) and sewed an organizer, Kindle cover, wallet.  I've made bowties and even learned how to tie them (something that's stumped me for months).

I'm getting better at communicating, too.  I'm better at thinking critically through a book or movie or TV episode.  I'm better at photography and photo editing (editing is something I never did in a professional setting until this year) and I am better at voice (taking lessons helps!).

I may be a bit better in these areas, but you know what?  I've failed a lot, too.  My ruffles didn't turn out perfect on the skirt, and I couldn't figure out how to do a bustline tuck.  My crocheted vase has a bump in the back and I still don't know how to finish off a project (weaving in the ends?!  I don't even know if you do that with the crochet needle or tapestry needle).  My breadsticks cracked instead of coming out smooth like the ones at Olive Garden.  And one of the book earrings I made has a tiny tear in it.  My writing still has lots to be desired (although I'm better at diagnosing what's wrong now), in terms of story movement and character development.

But now I know I can get better at these things.

Instead of despairing about how "beginner" some of my projects look, I keep sewing.  I keep writing.  I keep baking.  I keep crocheting.  I look up something if I don't know how to do it, and I read it over and out loud to myself until the problem unravels itself.

J.K. Rowling says,

Source: weheartit.com via Tiffany on Pinterest

She's right.  You need to fail.  Because you learn each time you fail, and you do better the next time.  My next sewing project will look better.  My next written piece will be better.  As long as I keep allowing myself to be messy and imperfect and to FAIL, I will keep 'failing foward'.



There's so much hope out there -- the hope that we can get better at things, which leads me to hope that life will be better (And if I'm practicing all these things, the quality of my life will definitely improve!).

And that is something I've never felt before.